The ugly side of loneliness
by wattsy104
Summary: Kimo Masuri had always been a quiet child leading a lonely life, until he just had enough. Along with with the new found power he had he changed and now it was time to begin anew, in a place where no-one wanted to be. I don't own Deadman Wonderland, but I do own Kimo Masuri and the plot of the fanfiction. Review after reading please, it's good to know what I can improve.
1. Cracks in the shell

Kimo Masuri always seemed to be a meek, down to earth child with nothing especially pronounced about his personality, and so it was the way it should be. He had always deemed to live his life in such a way that no-one would pay much attention to him, a life of constant home schooling and days indoors would do that to a kid. In fact the only time he was recognised was when he killed his parents, this wasn't some accident, you could tell just by looking at the crime scene that this was a gruesome attack, something that you would never expect to see from anyone. Let alone from the kid who had been stashed away since birth, he knew what people thought, the whispers that went on when he left the house on rare occasions, none of them were pleasant.

Kimo was a 16 year old boy who had never had any friend to speak of, who wasn't really allowed to make friends for fear that he might turn into the rebels that his parents had always feared. His parents were humanitarian ambassadors and were often sent around the world to aid in some new crisis or some existing civil war, so he never really saw them. It was sad really but he was used to it by now. In years gone by he would have had a nanny to look after him, a tutor to teach him in the core subjects and multiple chefs to cook for him. All in all a very quiet, boring life.

In the hours of free time he would keep himself locked in his room, reading the comics that he asked his nanny to get for him daily, after reading them he would bound around the luxurious house where he lived laughing, pretending he was one of the heroic people from the comics yet it was always result in him crying himself to sleep as he had no-one to share these fun times with. This happened more often than he would care to admit to anyone, it was embarrassing really. He was a cry baby, as his father used to always tell him.

He just had enough. Enough of everything, and at the root of it all was his parents, they were the ones who had locked him away for reasons not known by him. They were the ones who stopped him making friends with any of the local kids, who stopped him having some kind of a normal life. It was his parent fault that he didn't have any friends, it wasn't as if he wasn't good looking, at 6 foot and stocky enough to be considered muscular he had developed massively for his age. His hair was jet black and dark brown eyes looked down from underneath his shaggy fringe, it would be easy to make friends, he would tell himself. It never helped though.

It was obvious in the end he would snap, that his anger would seep out from under his meek, fragile exterior. It happened just before his father got home that night, his temper finally burst on his mother first, who he pushed down the stairs before bounding down to her prone body, jumping and stomping his foot down onto her skull, with his 6 foot, stocky frame there was no way she would have survived, yet the cracking and splintering of her skull made him feel so much better. The blood gushing from what was left of her skull felt warm, almost reassuring, that at least something would keep him company on those dark, cold nights that he hated so much, it was strange, he had never felt like this before. It felt pleasant; in fact it felt better than that. For the first time in 16 years he felt alive.

As he waited for his father to get home he would sit down in the pool of blood that was slowly seeping from the remains of his mother's skull, humming tunelessly, playing with the small fragments of bone that he could find, as he was playing he accidentally slice his left index finger open quite deeply , enough that it bled profusely. His eyes would fill with tears slightly as he stuck finger in his mouth almost like a baby sucking on his thumb. If anyone were to walk in at that moment they would think they had turned mad, suck would be the lunacy of the scene in front of them.

Yet no-one did, at least not for about an hour, then he heard the door open and his father would step in looking tired and dishevelled from work. His father was the only person Kimo knew who could make Kimo feel small, yet this didn't stop him this time. Barely had the scene in front of his father registered than Kimo was on his like a flash, yet something was different this time.

As he swept toward his father his left hand was covered in blood, yet it seemed to envelop his hand, like a gauntlet. He didn't pull up to investigate though, he was so close to freedom he could taste it, or that could be his mother's blood.

As he reached out for his father's neck the blood on his hand would reach out as if it had a mind of its own, and this 'armour' would slam him into the wall, crushing his windpipe. His father, dangling, a couple of inches off the ground would then begin to cough up blood as the light faded from his eyes. Kimo liked this, watching all the flickering emotions rush through in those final seconds: anger, desperation, fear. All of them, it was invigorating, it was empowering. After his father had passed, he tossed him like a rag doll onto the corpse of his mother.

After he finally killed his two captors he would sink onto the floor right next to the door and waited, like a puppy waiting for the return of its master. He didn't know what he was waiting for, he knew that if he was found he would be taken to trial and then executed, it was obvious, yet still he waited.

When morning came along the cleaner who came one a week opened the front door right beside Kimo and immediately let out a long high pitched screech, and all Kimo could do was smile, his left index finger still buried in his mouth.


	2. The choice

By the time that the police turned up, a full half hour later, Kimo had already been and cleaned himself of any blood that was on his hands. Literally cleaned the blood off his hands, it wasn't too hard as he killed his mother by stomping on her skull and the gauntlet of blood that surrounded his hand made sure that none of his fathers was left on him.

Even so, there was no getting away with it now and the police came for him. They didn't treat him gently either, slamming his head against one of the blood flecked walls of the grandiose hall. All he could do during this was giggle childishly as the police told him he was under arrest. Time after time they did this until his face was covered in blood, his giggles faded and his barely visible eyes started to narrow.

"You've taken this too far now," He warned before it happened again, the police officer obviously not listening to him. It came over him, some temper that had never really surfaced before. While the death of his parents had been an act of desperation, this was more out of anger. But hey, in for a penny, in for a pound as he was always told.

The blood on his face began to rise and distort, shifting down from his face to both his hands. The police officer began to back away slowly his face turning pale, he began to plead with Kimo.

"Please, don't do this, I have family, I don't want to die." He wouldn't even be able to raise his voice above a whisper he was that terrified with Kimo advancing on his, bloody gauntlets and all. This didn't stop him; it was obvious it wouldn't, after all Kimo did warn him to stop which the officer in question didn't listen to.

It was a quick death, Kimo gave him that at least, it wasn't pretty but it was quick. The officer's body was flung out of the door with his throat ripped form his body as he fell to the floor. Subsequently Kimo stepped out into the open air with the remainder of the officer's throat still grasped in his hand, smiling over his accomplishment. Then with throat still in hand he would begin to walk down to the local police station.

Of course he didn't make it that far; it must have been about 2 miles down the road that he encountered a number of police cars blocking the road. This time, he didn't particularly want any more blood on his hands so he sunk to his knees and shouted out above the sirens and the shouting of tens of police officers, "I surrender, now come arrest me!"

It was entertaining watching the bemused faces of the officers, trying to figure out who was going to come out and take him into custody. It took time, far too much time really, but one particularly brave officer did come out and snap some metallic handcuffs onto him and tell him what he was under arrest for… As if he needed reminding.

As he was whisked away in the back of one of the police cars he could hear the two officers talking in the front through the panel of flexi-glass that was separating the back and the front of the car, he could hear the radio crackling into life as well. What was being said mustn't have been good either because the look of the officer in the passenger seat was something akin to pure terror. After a couple of minutes Kimo would realise they weren't heading to the police station, so to quench his curiosity he would pipe up quite politely from the back talking loud enough that hopefully the two in the front could hear him. "Erm, can I ask where we're going please? It's just that we're going the wrong way to the police station."

It seemed like a bad idea to bring this up as the officer who took the call shrunk in his seat before turning around to fill in the blanks. "We've been ordered to take you straight to the court house. You're being tried today then getting the choice." His voice was loud enough to hear clearly through the flexi glass but it was filled with trepidation.

Straight to the courthouse? This confused Kimo, this was so unheard of that he had only heard of it once before and that was some serial killer who killed over 20 people, he wasn't that bad was he? Then again what was this choice that he was going to be offered? So many questions that weren't answered, but he would find out soon enough.

As the car approached the courthouse not only were there many more police there but also score upon scores of media keen on getting their piece about him. This was something that had always confused him, why did the media care so much about killers, he would never know but it made him feel special now he was one. He was a killer.

As he and the 20 man security escort wound their way through the corridors he would feel the eyes of Japan on him and began to feel that the escort wasn't for his own safety but in case Kimo decided that freedom was a better option.

He had an idea, a malicious idea but it would be fun. He would lean forward to the officers in front of him and would whisper just loud enough to be heard over the hubbub "How many of you do you think I could kill if I wanted?"

The reaction of the officers was priceless, one collapsed and another cried. While these were just childish everyone else didn't see it like this and was nearly killed because of this, so because of this, for the remaining hundred metres he had the butt of a rifle rammed into his back. It was totally worth it though and he was still smiling as he walked through the doors of the courthouse.

The trial was short, extremely short. Kimo himself was the only person to get on the stand where the questions were short and to the point. When he was asked why he did it he spoke at length. "Why? Why I did it? I wanted to be free, my parents kept me locked up in that house for years with no friends and no life. I had enough and now I'm finally free!" He would chuckle and take a moment to look around before continuing "Oh but the police officer made me mad, I told him to stop and he didn't so I killed him, look, some it this is his blood!" He would exclaim, almost looking for praise.

It was true his arm was soaked in blood up to his elbow and not all of it would be his own, however most people turned away at this point obviously too disgusted to look. At this point Kimo would become angry "I'm not a bad person," he would yell "they all had it coming and they deserved it!" Tears would begin to fill his eyes before he managed to keep himself under control.

After a few moments the judge spoke up to deliver his verdict, "well it's obvious that you did this Kimo, you haven't denied it. So now you have a choice. You either go for execution, or you go to Deadman Wonderland." He would offer this 'choice' like it wasn't really much of one. Even still Kimo jumped at the opportunity of continuing to live.

"Send me to Deadman Wonderland then!" He would exclaim with glee, even though he didn't really have much of an idea of what Deadman Wonderland was. He knew it was some kind of prison, a really bad one but it was better than being executed.

So with a look of surprise on the faces of the judge and the other select few in the courtroom he was yet again led out of the courtroom after a quick prayer from the judge. That prayer almost scared him. Maybe Kimo didn't know what he was getting involved in. It had to be better than automatic execution though. And if this prison was so bad, maybe he would have to kill a few more to make sure that people liked him.

All in all, one way or another he was sure to have a great time.


	3. First taste

As Kimo was being led from the courtroom there was a sense of pity from the guards who had led him in. It was a sharp contrast to when he was led in, it even made him consider about taking the other option available to him, it wouldn't be too hard to do either, just kill a couple of the guards that were escorting him to the entrance of the court house. This made him to his face just thinking about it, yet he didn't act on this urge at the moment, after all he did have morals he wanted to keep to, he wasn't the animal everyone thought he was, not yet anyway.

As he and his troupe of guards reached the front of the building there was a bus waiting outside. It almost looked like a school bus except for a couple of things which set it so far apart. The bus was completely grey except that on the two sides, in large colourful letters were the words 'Deadman Wonderland' which made it look almost surreal. There were also bars over all the windows too but, by the look of the some of the new inmates the bars might not be fixed on tightly enough as they were being rattled and even in one or two cases, gnawed at.

Kimo stood back and gaped in shock. He looked around at the guards that were now looking at him pointedly before they would be forced to carry him onto this mad bus, "You don't expect me to get on THAT with them do you?" He would ask incredulously, yet his question was greeted with a stony silence which was its own answer. After a moment or two of silence he would then puff out his chest and with an air of indignation would stride toward the open door with the sane prisoners howling insults and the insane ones just howling.

As Kimo entered the bus the first thing he noticed was that driver was not only armed bus was also locked inside a flexi glass pod with a large padlock on the inside. What was this place he was going to and was it really that bad? He had heard so little of it while he was leading his sheltered life that he really wasn't sure what he was getting himself into. It was too late now though and it seemed he would have to teach these people a lesson if they tried anything weird. So as the doors slid shut behind him he would steel himself for the trip ahead.

As he searched for a seat he thought it would be a very strange that a 16 year old with his arms still caked in dried blood would be a new inmate at 'Deadman Wonderland' and that it might catch a couple of people off guard, but Kimo really didn't expect what happened. As the bus started to move off onto the highway he would sit as close to the front of the bus as he could, next to the quietest inmate he could see and in plain view of the bus driver, at least here Kimo thought to himself, he would be as safe as he could. Yet suddenly this once quiet passenger would lean over, breathing heavily onto Kimo's neck and start attempting to bite his ear off!

Kimo's first reaction was to push this lunatic back by his forehead yet this did nothing but make him look even more demented, eyeballs bulging out of their sockets and his gnashing teeth clicking together rapidly. While he was desperately trying to hold off his demented attack he would turn his body slightly and yell out to the bus driver, "Well aren't you going to do something about this then?" This didn't get any reaction off the bus driver which angered Kimo immensely, but there was nothing that could be done about that now, there were far more important matters at hand as if things got any worse this lunatic would be munching on Kimo's ear.

His arms were getting tired now and there wasn't really anything that Kimo do but keep on grappling with his assailant until one of them tired which didn't bode well for Kimo as this lunatic didn't show any signs of letting up. Yet out of all of the other taunts and jibes being thrown at him be the other inmates there now came one voice which rose above the others, "Fine, if no-one else will help then I'll deal with this!" It was glorious to hear that someone on the hellhole of a bus was going to help out and before he knew it the loon was being pulled off of him as easily as a ragdoll and was being dragged to the bus door by an absolute giant of a man with the once quiet inmate kicking and screaming gibberish. The rest of the bus had fallen deadly silent so there was no mistaking the next sentence, "Open the door now. I'm going to guess you know who I am, if you do then you should know what'll happen to you if you don't, open, the, fucking, door." This was said to the now sweating bus driver who gulped and pulled the lever to open the door while the bus was still speeding down the highway.

As the wind began to rush through the bus, this mystery giant would steady himself on one of the railings with one hand and with the other would toss his screeching victim off the bus. This was all done without a second thought and, as the doors slid back to a close this 'man', if you could call him that came back down the bus and very calmly sat down next to Kimo. He then laid one massive hand on Kimo's right shoulder and said to him in as kind of a manner as possible, "Stick with me kid and you'll be alright. The names Nekkou by the way but just call me Nek." As Kimo beamed up at his new friend he would answer back as politely as possible "The name is Kimo, and thanks for the help!" He would then offer out one blood stained hand, Nek looked shocked for a second as he seemed to have only just noticed the blood covering Kimo's arms but after seeing this would roar with laughter which would make some of the new inmates jump because it was so loud.

Now for the rest of the trip, which was only a couple of minutes Kimo would sit staring up at Nek still trying to catch his breath. He was finally able to look at Nek's features, he must have been over 7 feet tall, or it seemed that way to Kimo, with stubble covering the lower half of his face and black hair pulled tightly back into a ponytail, Nek looked like an overgrown hippy which made Kimo chuckle to himself quietly. When Nek heard this he would turn and shake his head slightly, using his right hand to smooth back his ponytail, which appeared to be a habit of his as he repeated this a couple of times more.

As the bus came to a standstill outside of a plain grey gate which appeared to be a back way into the 'prison', the doors would open and they would all filter off, with the effects of what Nek did still lingering around all of the new inmates. There was only one happy person on the bus and that was Kimo as he followed his new friend off the bus, he was practically skipping as he descended the few stairs and stepped into his new home. With Nek around this was going to be such fun.


End file.
